Breaking Bad
by skouratapramata
Summary: 2p birds! Here is a story of juvenile delinquency and juvenile-level parenting. Prussia and France try to find out what's wrong with their birds. AU. In collaboration with TheElephantMaster.


A.N. In this universe, France and Prussia each have two birds. The well-known and fan-adored Gilbird and Pierre, and their alternative players, Flibird and Paul. I am sorry in advance for describing stuff that are impossible to happen (this story was written just for fun), and for breaking every existing law of kinetic physics. Also, I believe Francis and Gilbert would make much better parents than what they are in this story. Finally, be warned that this story contains shotguns (that will not fire, though). It was written in collaboration with TheElephantMaster.

We own nothing.

* * *

 **Breaking Bad**

Francis was extremely worried. Things were obviously not fine for Paul. Adolescence was a trying age, for sure, but this situation was something he had never met before. Paul was distant and secretive. He would not speak to Francis, but on special occasions, he would keep to his space, sad music on at all times and lights down low. He would spend most of his time online and not communicate his feelings, as the French nation probed him to so often.

Francis just hoped that it wasn't something too bad and that it would go away as Paul would get older. But, in the meantime, Paul was obviously depressed! Well, Francis was no doctor, but he could definitely exclude his number two guess that Paul was in love: Paul was lacking this certain bipolar behavior infatuated people came with. Definitely, not in love.

Even though, Francis wouldn't have minded: He was the nation of Love, he could guide him through. In Francis' desperate mind, even Paul's best friend would be a suitable option, Flibird. Boy, did Francis not like this bird! But, it was his best friend's protegé and he could say nothing.

Paul and Flibird were thick as thieves. They would spend every free second together, usually out telling no-one where, or locked in their rooms. Around Francis and Gilbert's houses they would be seen doing everything together, without exchanging a word. Watching TV, drinking orange juice or beer in the balcony, lying on the chaise longs with their feet on the iron rail, or assorting an exact replica of the shopping center of the city on the dining room table, annoying Francis to no end, as romantic, candlelit dinners with Arthur were thus, impossible.

Confrontation with Paul would have no results either. The black bird would look at him like a bored teenager and would not speak a word. Or it would give mild sings of annoyance in its magenta eyes. Or would be in a half-felt, half-pretended apologetic state. But things would not change.

In fact, lately, they had got worse. Something was going on, Flibird was in it, and Francis was sure. The two of them would be found whispering to each other, sneaking glances around, heads together, not watching tv even though they had it in front of them. Paul would spend a lot of time chatting with Flibird online, Flibird's white feathers and red eyes on his profile page on the screen giving them away. Their outings together getting longer and later into the night. And their way with each other... It was not romantic, and sometimes, not even friendly... It was like they were conspiring together.

Francis had to speak with Gilbert immediately. Boy, he never had such issues with Pierre! These 2P birds would be the death of him!

* * *

Gilbert opened the door to find an alarmed-looking Francis.

"Oh, hi Francis! Come on in!" he invited him.

"Hi Gilbert! How are you, my friend?" asked Francis as they were moving towards the living room couch.

"Great! Just as always" Gilbert laughed. "Would you like something to drink? Some coffee?" he offered.

Francis was obviously not so comfortable: "Non, merci mon ami, thanks" he trailed. Gilbert saw that Francis was there to talk serious.

"So, what's up?"

"Listen… I wanted to talk to you about Paul"

"Paul?"

"And Flibird."

"Flibird?"

"Yeah… You know how Paul is acting a little weird lately… I have mentioned it already, have I not?"

Gilbert mentally scanned the last Bad Touch Trio meetings in the local bar. He remembered Francis talking about Paul, but having been somewhere between his 8th and 9th bottle of beer he remembered nothing else. He could not let himself admit it though…

"Yes, I remember!" he muttered hoping his expression was not revealing the opposite.

Francis did not notice a thing. "Well, I am worried that there's something really wrong with him".

Gilbert scrunched his eyebrows. "Like what?" he asked.

Francis looked apologetic. "That's the problem, I can't put my finger on it exactly… He looks depressed at times, or just weird, aloof and lonely, and I don't know…" Francis finished in a frustrated tone. "I was hoping you should know something more? You know, how Paul and Flibird spend all their time together?"

Gilbert's eyebrows rose now. He paused for a couple of minutes evaluating the situation. Flibird was a bit absent-minded too lately, now that he was thinking about it. Tired, like he was not getting enough sleep, a bit cocky and confrontational, a bit too sure of himself, a bit more bad–tempered… But were those bad traits? Gilbert was not sure. In fact, he tended to think that Flibird was turning more and more like him as he was growing up.

Gilbird had a character very much like Gilbert's own, he was efficient, he was devoted to his military training, he was sassy and demanding, and, awesome, really… But Gilbird's second player, Flibird, was turning out a touch more similar to Gilbert, not only in looks. Flibird was everything Gilbird was, with an additional touch of badass. Was that a bad thing? That was another thing Glibert was not really to admit.

"I can ask him, if you want. But I doubt he will know if anything is wrong with Paul" ("Or that he would tell me", he thought). "What exactly is it that you're worried about?"

Francis looked exasperated. He didn't want to ask Gilbert directly, but he was left with no option:

"I'm thinking that something is definitely wrong and that Flibird knows about it. They're so close, just like Pierre and Gilbird are. I'm almost sure…" he hesitated. "That Flibird is a part of whatever is going on…"

"Yes, but what is it that you find wrong?" Gilbert insisted.

"I don't know!" Francis yelled exasperated. "But we're their parents! We have to find out what and make it stop! It's bad for Paul!"

Gilbert was beginning the sense something.

"Bad for Paul? Not for Flibird?"

"For both! We have responsibility for them, Gilbert!"

The Prussian decided to let it go.

"Alright, alright! What do you want to do about it?

A couple of hours of brainstorming later, the following conclusions were reached:

First, something was not right with Paul and Flibird. Thorough discussion made Flibird's "Dad" agree that his own "son" was not exactly his usual self lately.

Second, that no matter how hard they were thinking, the two nations could not, for the love of God, guess what exactly was wrong with their charges, and what could it be that was making them act so strangely.

Third, the two birdies were to be approached and carefully probed for some information that would hopefully clear the sky.

Fourth, if the previous approach was not fruitful, and as tapping their mobile phones was not possible, the culprits were to be followed on one of their night outings.

* * *

Francis knocked on Paul's door:

"Hello! Are you in there, Paul?" he asked

"Yes, Dad! Come on in!" Paul answered.

"How are you, my boy?"

"Alrighty. Not so bad! How are you?" Mild lack of respect made Francis a bit sad.

"Okay, I guess. Well, I wanted to ask you about something. See, I noticed how you are a bit off lately, like something is going on in your life, and I was wondering…"

"Francis!" Paul yelled. "I told you a million times! Any love life of mine is none of your business. And no, I don't need advice on any of the things you want to give me advice for!"

Well, his sweet little covey was certainly gone. But that's having an annoying little know-it-all like Flibird as best friend turned you into. He kept this thought to himself. "I don't want to talk to you about sex…" Francis said. "Although you probably need me to!"

Paul facepalmed.

"It's about you, and your late outings with Flibird, and your little hidden discussions, and you not talking to me at all." Francis said with one breath. He huffed.

"Are you in trouble? Of any kind?"

Paul was astonished, but that lasted only one second on his face. Francis did not want to believe this, but the new expression of innocence on Paul's features was not completely genuine.

"What kind of trouble, Dad?" the black bird asked, his eyes slightly shiny with withheld tears. "Everything is fine…"

"Why do you act like you're hiding something, then?" Francis insisted.

"I'm not hiding anything, I'm sorry if I'm making you sad, I had no idea…" His voice was slightly breaking.

" I know you have something on your mind, and that Flibird knows, and that you talk about stuff all the time with him, and that you're withholding them from me, probably because you don't trust me." Francis said softly. " But I'm here for you, I want to help you, and I can too, you can tell me anything at all!"

Paul was silent for a moment. "Come on, Dad, don't take it too seriously" he said. "I'm fine, don't worry! You know puberty is difficult, and I'm stuck in it for long. And being a representation of a nation's animals is tough, and demanding, and it's taking a toll on one's innocence…"

Francis was worrying once more. Paul was only going into poetic mode when he was trying to get himself out of a bad situation. Paul continued: "With Flibird we're just sharing the weight, you know… And you are really doing a great job as a role model and a guardian, of course I know I can come to you for anything…"

Flatery. Francis thought. And not even subtle one. Maybe things were worse than he had imagined.

* * *

Gilbert opened the door to his house to find Flibird sitting on his favourite spot on the couch, playing FIFA 15 on his new playing console.

"Hallo!" he greeted. "Where's your brother?" he asked.

"In bed. Early morning military tactics class tomorrow" Flibird answered, using as few words as possible, and not averting his eyes from the screen.

"What about you? Don't you have gymnastics early tomorrow?"

"Yeah, my leg is sore… I'll skip."

"Sore from what?"

"Don't know…"

"You need this class you know, Flibird" Gilbert said as softly as he could. Not so softly that is. "Physical strength is very important. What if you need to go to battle?"

Flibird paused the game and slowly turned to look at his "Dad" as if he was doing him a favour:

"What battle?"

Gilbert did not appreciate subtle irony, and he did not answer. Flibird resumed his game, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

But Gilbert was not giving up so easily. He took off his coat, left the keys he was still holding on the small table by the door, and sat on the couch too. Damn, he could win wording battles against sassy birds, right? Right?

"Flibird, turn the game off, I want to talk to you".

Flibird huffed, but paused the game nonetheless. With the controller still in his hands he turned his head towards his guardian:

"What?" he asked annoyed.

"See?" asked Gilbert. "This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about! What is this behavior all about? Why this lack of respect and interest for your family lately?"

"By family you mean you, or you have more in mind?" Flibird asked.

Gilbert plunged in improvising, so as not to let his protégé realize he was unprepared for this question

"Everyone, actually! Me, your brother, your uncle (Ludwig did complain about Flibird teasing an unsuspecting Feliciano too much…), Francis, and oh, poor Antonio! Only Paul is out of your shooting range." He concluded, congratulating himself for turning the conversation towards the desired direction of the French bird.

"What do you want?" Flibird asked raising his wings in an exaggerated gesture of exasperation. "My answer is most of you deserve it" he said unperturbed by his father's thunder-glare.

"What about the rest?"

"Just caught me in a bad mood!" said Flibird, a bit calmer-sounding.

Gilbert crossed his arms on his chest and begun tapping his leg on the floor. Self-confidence and a sharp tong were good for his birds, but not when they were directed against him.

Flibird wondered: "Why is it okay with you to be such a nuisance, but it's not okay for me?"

Gilbert was fast too now, "I'm not a nuisance all the time, and moreover, no one can pull annoying as awesomely as I do!"

Flibird was silent for a while. "What do you really want?" he said.

Gilbert decided to be forward.

"What are you and Paul up to? Why the late hour outings? Why are you guys conspiring all the time? Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?" Man, nothing sucked like accusing someone without a specific accusation.

"What are you talking about?" Flibird yelled. "There's nothing wrong! Nothing wrong with me or Paul! We're both great and doing wonderfully, thank you! We were never better, in fact!"

This bird was too much like himself, Gilbert thought with mixed feelings of pride and frustration.

"Are you sure? Where do you go when you're out? You never tell me! I trusted you enough till now not to ask, but now I want to know!"

"Where could we be going?" Flibird said rising his wings once more, but this time looking like an annoyed rapper. "In bars with the guys, picking chicks up! As usual!" he said.

Gilbert looked at the frozen screen in front of him.

"What guys?" he asked.

"Jesus!" Flibird cried out. "Just some guys!"

Gilbert shook his head disapprovingly, as he had seen parents do in movies when they wanted to show frustration, and left the couch sighing. Flibird huffed and left for his room muttering profanities under his breath.

Gilbert opened a can of beer from the fridge. Plan B it was.

* * *

"Il fait froid!" Francis complained, pulling his thin jacket closer around him. "Why didn't we use a car again?" he asked.

Gilbert replied: "We are following two birds, Franny. We need something fast and agile. Secondly, they know us and our cars, we needed something they would not recognize. The motorbike was the perfect choice. Sorry if the helmet spoils your hair!" he added, a bit ironically. By the way, didn't I tell you to wear less noticeable clothing?"

Francis took a look at his companion's sneakers, military pants and black leather jacket, and then at his own fit-for-clubbing sky blue button-up and fitted blue jeans. "No way!" he replied. "So, what now?" he asked.

"Don't know." Gilbert replied, looking at the door across the street. "Just wait."

Francis sighed and rubbed his arms with his palms.

Gilbert tried to recapitulate in his head what had happened so far.

It was Friday night and it was one of the usual nights out for Flibird and Paul. Paul would come to find Flibird around 22.00 and they would leave together around half an hour later. Gilbert himself, had earlier that night pretended to go out for drinks with Francis and Antonio. He went to pick up the motorbike he had hired from where it was parked, and after he got word that Paul left Francis' place he went there to change clothes. He picked Francis up and both of them waited for the two birdies to come out, somewhat hidden outside Gilbert's house. Once they were out, they followed them as discreetly as possible, and saw them entering a quite shabby and suspicious-looking water hole in some dodgy just off-centre neighbourhood of the city.

Things were already not looking bright. Every now and then the door to the place would swing to let already half-drunk people come in, and completely wasted individuals supported by guys that looked like ex convicts come out. Moreover, the short, guarded so not to be seen visit of Gilbert on the inside of the establishment did not provide an encouraging glimpse. Dirty surfaces, separés hidden in dark corners, and almost naked ladies dancing in the club bartops.

Francis whined learning this news: "I had only given him top-quality champagne until now. What does he drink here?"

"What kind of place is this, anyway?" Gilbert seconded. He pointed his finger to the thin windows of the basement looking on the street. Dirtied by the thick smoke inside, only dim light and shadows of dark-clothed people were coming through. "What are people doing there?" he wondered aloud.

"Nothing good, I assure you." Francis answered. "Gil, I'm very worried. You did not see them at all when you were inside? Giving tips to the dancing ladies, or drinking or something?"

"No, Francis, they were not in the main room." Gilbert confirmed. "Let's just wait and see when they'll be out."

They had waited two hours into the night, hiding behind a kiosk close to the bar entrance. Once Paul and Flibird came out, they were both looking just fine. Not drunk, and without company, except from a bulky guy who was leaving at the same time, waved goodbye at them and walked off to the opposite direction. Paul and Flibird looked at each other with determination, and high-fived before flying away.

Gilbert and Francis thought that that was the end of their stake-out. But following the two birds soon took them on a part of the city very different from where any of their houses stood. The two birds flew towards another suspicious part of the city, and sneaked their way into a dark alley, all the time looking around to make sure no one would see them. This was the point their two guardians came closer to getting caught.

They both flew towards a small, dusty looking pawnshop. Flibird pulled something out of his plumage and picked the lock of the shop. Soon the door was open, and the two birds in. They were in a part of the town that had no residencies, and it was a pretty safe assumption that no people would pass by or look out from the windows at this time of the night. Gilbert and Francis hid easily behind some thin bushes having a great view of the front door of the pawnshop.

"They're not up to something, are they?" Francis asked, breaking Gilbert's not so happy reveree and bringing him back to his even less happy reality.

"You still doubt it?" Gilbert retorted.

"I really hope they're not working for a loan-shark" Francis continued. "It would be awful, but it seems possible. Our genies, may be, I don't know, selling this guy information or something?"

Gilbert's mind had worked out something different: "What if…" he paused for creating suspense and then resumed: "What if the pawnshop owner is totally legal, and these two "prides of our lives" are working for mafia? What if they are offering the guy a protection racket?" he said, raising his eyebrows, his mind clearly working and creating fresh conspiracy theories by the second.

Francis did not speak, but he definitely did not agree. Gilbert's idea was so far-fetched. He was such a drama queen some times. His own idea was much more possible to be the reality, no?

Gilbert, getting no answer, begun enthusiastically on another theory of his: "Or maybe, this is a shell company, and not a pawn shop at all, in the back of which, Flibird and Paul have set up a secret, illegal casino, and make money out of gambling addicts…"

Francis' eyes widened, but he still had some patience left, and kept his mouth shut.

"OR," Gilbert begun again, "our boys work WITH the police, and"

"Shut up!" Francis shouted. "We will soon find out."

As of cue, loud clattering was heard from the pawnshop, making the two nations' heads snap towards its door. The door burst open, and suddenly the time seemed to go on a slow motion. Out the door flew the two birds, wearing cheeky, self-satisfied grins, their eyes gleaming with threat against anyone who might want to stand in their way.

Paul was wearing a baseball hat backwards. From one wing he was brandishing a shotgun, from the other a bag of what obviously was loot. Francis wondered how he managed to fly.

Flibird had a long, thick, gold chain around his neck, a gold bracelet around his wing, and a diamond ring worn as an anklet. He was also carrying a sack full of stuff, and had a box of Cuban cigars tucked under his wing. Gilbert, eyes wide, concentrated on his sense of hearing. Had the intro to "In Da Club" by 50 Cent really started suddenly playing so loud from somewhere around, or was it just his imagination?

The birds passed them by without seeing them, and flew in the distance, their loud laughter and menacing cries echoing in the empty street.

* * *

It took the two men five full minutes until they were able to move, during which they could only look at the open door of the looted shop in front of them, or look at each other like they both needed the other to confirm what they had just witnessed. At some point Francis jumped on the motorbike, and once Gilbert followed him, he took the keys out of the Prussian's pocket. He drove into the night as fast as he had never driven before.

Not having exchanged a single word since the recent revelations, the two nations burst into Flibird's room. They found Flibird lying on his bed, flat on his back, one leg over the other, all types of gold objects thrown randomly on and around him, smoking one of the cigars. Paul was sitting by the desk, looking at the diamond ring through a professional eyepiece. The laptop was blasting club music. Both birds rose from their positions, as though they had gone on fire.

"So,…" Francis begun. "Do you care to explain to us what exactly is going on here?" he said, crossing his arms on his chest.

Paul turned the music off. "Nothing, it's not what it looks like!" he said, looking completely panicked.

"Shut up, bastards!" Gilbert yelled. "We saw you, we saw IT! All of it!" he informed them. "The dodgy club, the pawnshop, all of it! What on earth were you thinking? What the hell have you got yourselves into?"

While Paul was trying to look as small as possible, Flibird tried to play courageous. "Come on, dad, it's nothing, we were just having some fun…"

Francis lost it: "Fun? Is that your idea of fun? Robberies and guns? Being in gangs, and putting yourselves in danger?" He was so angry, his voice sounded like it was coming from a cave within his chest, Gilbert noted. If it weren't for his flashy clothes, Francis would truly look and sound like a lion at that point. The two birds were aware of it too.

Paul, seeing that his best friend was not helping their case, took over.

"Let's all calm down, shall we?" he pleaded.

"You are in no position to tell me what to do, young man!" Francis shouted. Gilbert intervened:

"Let's hear what they have to say, Francis. They can't have too much to say, though…" Deep down Gilbert was blaming himself. He must have been a bad influence to Flibird, or else, why would he have done such a thing? He himself sure did a lot of things for fun, spanning from cleaning to getting disgustingly drunk with his buddies, but a robbery? What could the two birds be missing to do such a thing? He felt like a failure.

"Thanks," Paul brought him back to reality. "Well, first of all, this is only the third time we do this."

Gilbert gaped: "Third time already!" he muttered. Francis waved his head in disappointment.

"It's not a lot!" Flibird defended himself.

Paul put up his wing to close his friend's mouth. "And second, we do not do it for the money… It's for the game…" he added.

Francis felt disappointed and confused. "A game? What kind of a game is this?" he asked.

Paul explained: "We just take the stuff, bring it here, evaluate the loot, and see if we got more than the last robbery… It's a competition. Against ourselves. We were going to stop once the value of what we stole would be smaller than our previous attempt…"

Gilbert looked relatively calm, considering his inner boiling state. "A game? You expect us to believe that?"

"Yes," Francis continued in a sarcastic tone, "you expect is to believe that you're not making money out of the things you get? That you just keep them somewhere around? Where?" he said reaching with his hand the closet door handle. "Maybe in the wardro…" the word has cut short by the clanging of golden objects dropping to the wooden floor as soon as the door of the closet was open. Francis kept it only slightly open for a while, since he could feel bulkier metallic things trying to escape. He finally closed the door with some difficulty.

"We told you so!" Flibird said looking like a mistreated puppy, his purple eyes downcast. "Besides, we were going to stop soon. The only thing that helped us beat our record tonight was this" he continued brandishing the cigar box.

Gilbert and Francis were speechless. "What about the club?" Francis insisted. Paul took over again: "It's nothing… We just had a couple of drinks there with some people we know, and that's where we keep our equipment also."

"Are they not your accomplices?" Francis asked again. "Don't they know?"

"No way." Flibird answered. "Besides, the people there are completely drunk most of the time. They can't hold their liquor," he sneakered. "It would be a miracle if they remembered having talked to us, let alone guess what we planned to do or were doing before."

Gilbert couldn't help but ask: "Why did you do this, though? What was your motive?" and a little more frustrated: "Where did we go wrong?"

Paul sighed, and yelled: "It was just exciting!" Astonishment was written all over their guardians' faces. "It just made us feel good! It has nothing to do with you! It's about adrenaline, and thrill, about getting into danger and avoiding getting caught! No wonder you thought I was depressed, I was down from the natural high I get from finding my way into closed shops at night, and leaving them carrying the most valuable things in there away!" he said turning to Francis. "We needed something different, we needed a challenge!"

Gilbert breathed deeply in relief. He was not such a bad parent after all! It was not about him, they said so, it was that those two birdies were naturally delinquent. Nevertheless, in order to fill the good parent part, he now felt ready to give some pain.

"This is no challenge! This is an embarrassment! Stealing just for the fun of it! I did not expect this from you!" he said to Flibird. He then turned to Paul: "Nor you!"

"We are so disappointed" Francis agreed. "This is no game or fun. Is this how we raised you? Is this the way to represent the proud fauna of France and Prussia? Do you not understand how bad this is?" he finished with a melodramatic sigh, selecting to forget some of the memories from his younger years, when the Bad Touch Trio did more than getting drunk.

Gilbert sighed. "How are we to trust you ever again? He asked. He felt he had no choice but to be strict, and pointed his finger to Flibird: "One year grounded, young man! You're only allowed out for your trainings and courses, or for chores. No drinking!"

Francis took a side look at his friend. He would not be able to hold Flibird's grounding for so long.

Gilbert continued: "Moreover, you are not allowed anymore to neglect your courses!" And after a minute of consideration: "Plus two more hours of swordsmanship, another foreign language, probably Japanese, and three hours of philosophy per week! You don't need all this, but, why not educate you a bit while punishing you? Plus we're going to the Mass, every Sunday morning!" He would suffer too, to bring his charge into the straight path again!

Flibird's mouth was opening a little bit more with each sentence his dad was pronouncing. At the end he made a groan, and begun pulling on the feathers of his head. He said nothing though to better his position.

""You too, Paul!" Francis begun. Grounded for a year, extra classes of court manners, fashion design, and battle strategics!" Paul looked as if he would suffer a stroke any minute now. "And you are not allowed to visit each other unless another person is there! The ideas you are getting when you are together are dangerous!"

Paul fought back: "What, will I need an escort to meet with my friends now? What about you and your friends, have you any idea how bad an influence _you_ are to each other?" he said, pointing at Gilbert. "Who is going to escort you when out with them?"

The Frenchman's face was completely red now: "No more! Talking back will not be accepted! Let's go to our home right now, you're grounded from this moment!"

Paul walked out of his room muttering under his breath, while a terrified Flibird looked at his friend, eyes beginning to water. Francis begun to doubt his first ideas on who was influencing whom between the two birds. Maybe his Paul was the brain behind all this after all.

He took one last look to Gilbert who slowly nodded, and left the room behind Paul without another word.

* * *

Things went exactly as Gil and Francis had in reality expected. They were only able to hold onto the birds' severe punishment for less than half a year. Paul and Flibird though, were too traumatized by these punishments to try anything similar once they were able to meet each other as they liked again. This, however, did not stop them from getting an insistent habit of betting money on what stupidity their guardians would do next while drunk.

One day, though, some time after Paul and Flibird's rights were completely reinstated, Gilbert saw a large telescope and various weird and unidentified – yet obviously cutting-edge – technological devices being delivered directly to Flibird's room. He knew where the money for all this stuff came from, but did not speak a word to Flibird, who was enthousiastically giving directions for the telescope to be placed in front of his window, infoming Paul of their arrival on the phone at the same time. He really hoped that Paul and Flibert's lives had come to what it was before the incident, save the criminal activity of course, but he had the bad feeling that Francis and him would soon have to begin another investigation...


End file.
